Of Mistletoe, Food and Weasleys '09
by SS-HPFC
Summary: He'd told her very firmly that she was not to try out her match making skills on the girl and himself. Because after all, they were just friends. But did Molly Weasley ever really do what her sons said?" CW/OC For Izabel!


**For Izabel**

**Of Mistletoe, Food and Weasleys**

* * *

The Weasley household was abuzz. Abuzz with Christmas spirit and cheer that made even the furniture stand up straighter and the dishes sparkle a little extra. Molly Weasley, the head of the Weasley household, moved about with as much grace as an ageing woman could muster – which was, in fact, quite a bit of grace.

But Molly wasn't just excited about Christmas. No, that could happen any year, and always did. Molly was excited because her second oldest son was having a _guest_ for Christmas. A _guest_ was coming to spend time with _Charlie's Family_. She couldn't help but give a grin every time she thought about it.

Of course, Charlie had said, "Mum, she's just a friend. _Friend_. Nothing else." He'd told her very firmly that she was _not_, under any circumstances, to try out her match making skills on the girl and himself. Because after all, they were just friends.

But did Molly Weasley ever really do what her sons said? Well, sometimes. But not this time. Certainly _not_.

Annabelle Dundin almost smiled mockingly as the redhead embraced his mother with enthusiasm. She watched as every single one of his family filed out of the small, yet very appealing house and greeted him with equal vigour. The majority of the Weasley family had red hair, which was definitely something she did not see every day, having grown up with a purely brunette family.

She raised her eyebrows as Charlie Weasley, her connection to the family, turned to face her, a smirk on his face. "And this, everyone," He began, his arms spread out, as if presenting some totally amazing trophy, "Is Miss Annabelle Dundin, my colleague and lovely friend." Charlie introduced.

She gave them a smile that won most hearts and shot him a slight glare. "You are _such_ a drama-queen, Charlie." She hissed as he came to stand beside her, waiting as the entire family scrutinized her, before erupting into a great big roar of introductions. He gave an amused smile.

"I'm Molly, and this is Arthur, we're Charlie's parents." The eldest Weasley woman said, taking her hand in her own slightly ageing ones. Her hands were warm and smooth – a comfort, and her eyes could be described as the same as she smiled to the younger woman.

"Pleasure to meet you." She said giving Mrs. Weasley a tight squeeze with her encompassed hand. She was taken through the family, to every single member and introduced to a different individual with quite enough confusion – especially when it came to the twins, Gred and Forge (Annabelle assumed these were not their real names) – and even introduced to the Golden Trio, who were very warm in their welcome.

By the time the excitement had died down, and Charlie was in the back yard playing quidditch, Annabelle found herself seated in the kitchen, watching as Molly, Fleur, Hermione and Charlie's youngest sister, Ginny prepared ingredients for the Christmas lunch that was planned for the following day.

"So, Annabelle," Ginny Potter, very pregnant, began, flicking her red hair out of her eyes. "You work with Charlie at the reserve?" She questioned, peeling the eighteenth potato.

Annabelle cleared her throat and noticed that the other woman had ceased conversation. "Erm, yes. I'm the physician for the dragons."

Hermione turned around, brown eyes looking intrigued. "What kind of dragons do you deal with?" She asked curiously. "It must be scary…" She muttered more to herself than anyone else.

Annabelle gave a chuckled and smiled. "I work with every dragon that needs help. My latest dragon was a Horntail. But he was alright once we calmed him down. He was having trouble with his wings." She replied, clutching her hands beneath the table – a nervous habit she had picked up a while ago. "Err, is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, before she could be quizzed any further.

Molly smiled, and Annabelle could swear it was triumphant. "Well, you can help Ginny here peel potatoes." She said, handing her another peeler, which had suddenly appeared. "We have a lot of men to feed in this place. And they ALL love potato." She said cheerfully.

"She's _just a friend_." He argued back across the makeshift pitch to his younger brother, Fred. "Stop insinuating that there's anything more to it." He said huffily, his breath visible in the winter air, watching as Bill threw the quaffle at Ron. He kicked it away skilfully and Bill caught it again.

"Ah, but you wouldn't bring your _friend_ home for Christmas!" George exclaimed gleefully, before racing off after Harry, who had managed to extract it from Bill's grip.

Charlie sighed and called for Harry to pass it to him. As he caught it only seconds later and aimed it at Fred's make-shift goal (a giant hoop he had charmed to float), he couldn't help but feel that George was right. _Why on Earth had he brought her home?_ He threw it, not knowing own strength, a little too hard and it hit Fred's broomstick, which cause Fred to topple off and fall toward the snow-covered ground. "BULLOCKS!"

"Bloody broomsticks. I just don't understand the need for you lot to get _off_ the ground and endanger yourselves." Molly muttered angrily as she dressed Fred's head. Fred, Molly, George, Ginny, Harry, Charlie and Annabelle were gathered in the living room, tending to Fred's injuries.

Ginny snickered. "I knew you were never meant to be a keeper. You were never good with your reflexes!" Ginny teased. Which, although untrue, made Fred glare at her through his concussion. He stuck up his middle finger and flinched as his mother flicked him across the ear firmly.

Annabelle grinned at Charlie, who although was feeling bad for his brother, couldn't help but grin back at her as she made a face at him. He shuffled over to her quietly. "They haven't been quizzing you too much, have they?" He asked, 'they' meaning his mother and the other Weasley females.

She smiled tightly, remembering the many questions that Hermione had asked about her work with the dragons, and the very many questions Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had shot at her about Charlie's social life, sounding awfully suspicious about certain aspects. "No, not at all." She lied, and he knew it.

He gave her a grin and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Liar. Did they ask about my girlfriends?" She nodded with a sly grin and he paled. "You didn't."

She grinned and bit down on her lip. "I would never." She said coyly, turning her head away from him to avoid his eyes with a cheeky grin in place. In the back of his mind, Charlie registered how lovely her dark brown hair smelt – like green apples and something he couldn't quite place. He watched her as her green eyes roamed their surroundings, ignoring his intense gaze. She bit down on her lip and he watched, almost hungrily.

She cleared her throat, smirk dropping. He shook his head and finally took notice of his family – all of them – watching them and hiding grins. He released her from under his muscular arm and cleared his own throat uncomfortably. Oh, he was going to get the piss taken out of him later.

* * *

As she settled in her bed – located in Ginny's old room along with Hermione, Annabelle couldn't help but wonder why Charlie had been gazing at her so intently at dinner, after the very awkward living room fiasco. His blue eyes, she remembered from dinner, had been staring at her for the whole meal, and he had turned bright red each time she had caught him. Which had been exactly eight times.

"Annabelle?" She heard Hermione's voice from the bed across from her. She sat up to let her know she was listening. "I've been wondering…"

"Yes?" She prompted, her eyes searching for the younger woman in the darkness.

"I've just been wondering – and I really hope you don't get offended, but I've been wondering if there is something going on between you and Charlie?" She asked tentatively.

Annabelle scoffed, although her first reflex was to shout a big fat "NO!" at Hermione. "Ah, no. We're just friends." She said quietly.

"Oh." She said, which was followed by an awkward silence. "It's just that… the way he was watching you at dinner… and in the living room today… _and_ you seem to only talk when he's around, like he makes you comfortable or something…" She went to continue, but Annabelle interrupted firmly.

"Hermione, stop. We're just close friends. Charlie was there for me when I – when I had my _personal tragedy_, and we became close… I guess you could call him my best friend. Nothing more." She said and throughout the night, her own words echoed through her dreams, running around her mind – trying to desperately contradict the other words – Hermione's words.

They stayed in her head until Christmas morning dawned to be a cold day, the snow falling gracefully to a slight wind from the north. Mrs. Weasley had prepared a hot breakfast for the large group that were currently occupying her home.

The Weasley Matron had indeed been busy. With the help of Fleur, her beautiful Veela daughter-in-law, they placed mischievous mistletoe throughout the Burrow, as part of a very elaborate plan. Oh yes, Mrs. Weasley had a plan for her second eldest son and his guest.

This plan took effect as both Charlie and Annabelle exited their respective rooms and made their way down the spindly stairs of the Burrow. Molly watched in anticipation as Annabelle, dressed in a lovely red, white and green Christmas dress and stockings, finally landed under the mistletoe. As she attempted to take a step forward, she found that her foot couldn't breach an invisible barrier. She cursed under her breath when she looked up. Mistletoe.

Charlie frowned when he saw her glaring up at the ceiling, and just as he was to take the next step and join her on the stair under the mistletoe – not knowing that it was there – George, who had seen Annabelle's problem and, of course, felt the need to cause riot, stepped right in front of Charlie and effectively took his older brother's place in Molly's plan. The Weasley Matron was _not_ impressed.

Annabelle groaned. "Fred…" She began. "Or are you George?" She asked curiously.

"George, guilty as charged." He grinned, giving her a wink that made her scowl. He smirked at this.

"George, you _do_ realise we're under mistletoe, right?" She asked, placing her palm against the barrier.

"You're gonna have to kiss her, little brother." Charlie said, with a hint of annoyance in his eyes and voice. "Or you'll be stuck there for a few hours. That means no breakfast – for any of us." He said, scowling. Although, he wouldn't admit it, he wasn't scowling about missing breakfast.

Annabelle sighed. "Okay, George –"

"Maybe just a peck on the cheek might work?" Charlie interjected just as George leant down to kiss his guest. _His _guest. He then noticed the little smirk that adorned George's features, and his eyes darkened. _He's doing this for kicks_.

"Oh, I don't think it will, Charlie." He said, smirking up at the older Weasley boy, standing only slightly taller than him due to the extra stair. He then turned back to Annabelle, her pretty green eyes looking between the two brothers with confusion. "Now or never, love." He grinned and leant down to press his lips to hers.

Annabelle pressed back with her lips, willing the mistletoe to bugger off, and at the same time watching Charlie out of the corner of her eye. Was it just her, or was Charlie glaring at them with a look that could definitely kill? Surely breakfast wasn't _that_ important?

The atmosphere was tense for George Weasley. Not only did he have his second oldest brother glaring at him quite hatefully, but his own _mother_ was giving him the death-stare. He swallowed and put another piece of scrambled eggs in his mouth, chewing quietly as all the other present family members and friends looked on confused. Not even_ Fred _could tell what was going on.

He shot Charlie a grin, which he immediately regretted, as the older Weasley boy did not return it. He finished his breakfast quickly and waited for Charlie to place the last bit of bacon in his mouth and then stood up. "Charlie, I need to speak to you." He said, raising an eyebrow as if to say 'do you really want to do this _here_?'

Charlie stood quietly, his eyes flickering to a very confused Annabelle, and he followed George out the door and into the snow. "What do you want?" He asked, looking murderous toward his own flesh and blood.

"So you _do_ like her, eh?" George said, his eyebrows rising in suspicion. This question bought Charlie from his horrible mood into one of complete and utter incredulity.

"What? I'm sorry; did you just ask me if I like _Annabelle_?" Oh, the _nerve_. George nodded defiantly, looking his brother square in the eye as they scrutinised each other. "What makes you say that?" He asked harshly.

George smirked and cracked his knuckles, as if preparing for a fight. "You looked about ready to kill me this morning." George said. "Because I kissed her. You _automatically_ assumed I was talking about her when I mentioned you liked someone. Let me see… you look at her like you can't stop. Need further proof? Because I'm sure I can get it."

Charlie gaped at his brother, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, until he came up with a very indignant, yet suitable answer. "I do _not_ look at her like I can't stop." He said, before turning on his heel and walking back into the house.

* * *

As Annabelle watched the smallest and newest Weasley children tear at the Christmas paper, she felt like crying. It had been four years since she had lost her toddler; a little boy named Alexander. Four years to the day. And she could feel it more than ever, now at the age of twenty eight. But she had had four years to recover, and she was not going to cry today. Charlie had once told her that every _tear wasted on the past is a smile gone from the future_. And she knew he was right, especially when he sat down beside her and rubbed her shoulder.

She smiled up at him and felt her heart skip a beat when he gave her that gentle smile that always melted away her sadness. It was as if he was telling her that everything would be okay, just in a smile. Charlie had always, for the last two and a half years, been able to calm her. He'd also been able to keep her strong. And that was what she loved about him. He was so…

_Whoa. _Since when did she love Charlie? Well, she'd always loved him… just as a friend… right?

She shook her head slightly and concentrated on the presents that were being unwrapped, each a heartfelt gift that truly warmed the room itself. She grinned as Ginny received baby clothes and all of the women in the room became clucky immediately. She laughed as the twins gave Harry Potter a remark or two that insulted his manliness, and watched as he brushed it off.

When lunch time arrived, a feast, it appeared had been set out in the kitchen, which looked to have been enlarged. Annabelle smiled and sat down next to Charlie. "Wow, your mum sure knows how to cook up a storm." She grinned.

"Oh yeah. Not only can she cook up storms, but she can cook up hurricanes and other natural disasters, too." He grinned in return and she laughed, helping herself to the large array of delicious foods. "Are you glad you came?" He asked, nudging her with his elbow.

She nodded. "Definitely. This is way better than my usual Christmas routine." Annabelle said through a mouthful of turkey.

He laughed at her as the cranberry sauce dribbled down her chin, and before he knew what he was doing, he wiped it off with his thumb, possibly lingering a second too long. She blushed slightly under his gaze and he laughed again. Though he had no idea why.

As the children played in the snow, Charlie and Annabelle sat on a wooden bench, probably very old, together – having been charged with babysitting by a scheming Molly.

Annabelle laughed as Charlie told her about what the twins had done to the horrible Delores Umbridge and exaggerated only a little, just to make it that little extra funny. He loved watching her laugh. It amazed him the way her eyes narrowed in mirth and her nose crinkled – not to mention the way she didn't giggle – she laughed a full laugh and it was so natural.

Okay, so Charlie admitted it; maybe he did like her. Just a little. Or a lot. Same thing, really.

He suddenly heard her curse. She was looking up again, with that scowl on her face. Another adorable facial expression. And more mistletoe.

"I think the mistletoe has it in for me, Charlie." She groaned, leaning her forehead against his muscular arm.

He laughed at her, his blue eyes connecting with hers as he smirked. "Well, there's only one way out." He said and looked at her evenly, swallowing the lump of nervousness in his throat. Surprisingly, she smiled and moved up; using what was supposed to be _his_ Gryffindor courage and kissed him firmly. The mistletoe disappeared and they pulled away.

It was just enough for the mistletoe.

But not enough for Charlie. In one swift motion he took her face in his left hand and, stroking her cheek gently, brought his lips down on her, softly at first and then more hungrily as she pressed against him, one of her hands reaching up to run through his red hair, which was sticking up at odd ends.

She pulled away from him breathlessly. "Charlie, I –"

"Annabelle, I have something to tell you." He cut her off and she looked at him questioningly. "We've worked together for what? Nearly three years? I've been there for you, and you helped me out when I had to be here." He said, taking one of her hands tentatively. "I've always found you very attractive, and I just – erm…" She was shaking with laughter. _She was_ _laughing at him!_ "What?"

She laughed again and kept hold of his hand, pointing it upwards again. "Like I said," She managed through her laughter, "I think the mistletoe has it in for me."

He looked up to find it hovering above them and sure enough, the barrier shimmered as he pressed his palm, calloused and very cold to its surface. He looked at her, and just as he was about to open his mouth and say something very witty and charming, she cut him off with her lips.

They pulled apart, and Annabelle was smirking at him as he looked at her amused. "Actually, maybe my _mother_ has it in for _us_." He commented loudly, looking through the kitchen window, just on time to see Molly Weasley duck out of sight with a very satisfied grin on her face.


End file.
